


The Moon Danced and the Stars Played a Symphony

by ELISE_ELEVEN



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Romantic Comedy, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Chance Meetings, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Dancer Rey (Star Wars), Enemies to Lovers, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, How Do I Tag, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Light Angst, Masturbation, Meet the Family, Modern Era, Musical Instruments, Orphan Rey (Star Wars), POV Ben Solo, Passion, Plot, Porn With Plot, Rich Ben Solo, Romantic Fluff, Sexy Times, Slow Burn, Smut, Vaginal Sex, ben is a player, ben is kinda an asshole, rich leia, violinist ben solo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 04:46:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17196791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ELISE_ELEVEN/pseuds/ELISE_ELEVEN
Summary: Ben Solo, renowned concert violinist, knows nothing but a glamourous life full of all fancy clothes, private planes, adoring fans, and women who want him. He has been on tour for several months now, and his last stop is the city he grew up in. After years of distance and avoidance, Ben will finally have to revisit his parents and accompanying uncomfortable memories.He has planned to give his concert, see his parents, and get out as quickly as possible. But, on a stormy winter evening, Ben stumbles upon something that changes his perspective. Something stirs inside him and he beings to wonder if he can ever remember the passion he once had for his art. The beautiful, young dancer may be the only one who can teach him how to live again.





	1. Chapter 1

She kisses the tips of his toes one by one, leaving behind smear of dampness that chills as soon as her lips are gone. She’s playing with his toes, which would normally make him uncomfortable, but the way she is peeking up at him suggestively somehow makes is sexy and even endearing. Adrianna, he’s certain that’s her name, must have a thing for feet, some sort of a fetish. He remembers last night she’d fisted her toes in his hair as he took her on the edge of the bed, her head hanging over the side. It had been so much hotter than he thought it could have been, when she’d ground her clit against his foot, riding the top of it as she sucked him off. 

Adrianna, or maybe just Anna, takes his smallest toe into her mouth and nibbles on it. Her hair is must and wild around her face and her hardened nipples graze the side of his leg as she strokes the curve of the top of his foot. Its been a long time since he’s been so intimate with someone, not like sex, he has a lot of that; but let someone stay over night and into the morning. Usually, he insists they leave directly afterward, made it is policy even. Ben doesn’t care that it makes him look like a dick. He makes sure he doesn’t sleep with anyone who could know who he is and could get him in trouble. It’s not like concert violinists are recognizable to the general public. It had also been a rule to never sleep with a fan, but last night, for the first time in two years, he’d broken that rule. There was just something about the way she looked at him as her hand lingered a little too long in his, that made him feel really good. So good that he left a message telling her to meet him later on the back of the picture he’d signed for her. So good that he had drunkenly led her up to his hotel room after kissing her in on the sidewalk. So good that he’d let her stay after they’d both orgasmed and lay panting on his damp sheets. 

Ben studies her face and begins to wonder how they ended up like this. Why had he broken his most important rule for her? She wasn’t anymore attractive or enamored with him than any of the countless other fans who had hit on him. Maybe he had been feeling particularly lonely that night. It was near the one-year anniversary of his breakup with his last girlfriend, Megan. Megan, he thinks with distain. No, he certainly hadn’t been missing her. She had just been someone to keep the female fans away and to make his parents and manager happy. His manager, Maz Kanata, had insisted it would make him more humanized in the eyes of the public, so when his Mother had introduced him to the daughter of one her wealthy friends, he decided she was as good a choice as any. Things were fine for a while, until she’d caught him in the middle of sleeping with another woman. They had a big fight and split, with her leaving for the man she’d been cheating on him with. 

Maybe, he thinks as he reaches out to tuck her hair away from her face, he’d just been so tired of being alone. He really does like her, he realizes. She is smart and funny and so beautiful. Maybe he’ll see her again. Should he ask for her number? His pulse quickens a bit at the thought. Adrianna crawls up his bare legs and wraps her hands around his torso. The silly grin she gives him, leaning her head all the way back to look up at him, makes him forget his thoughts as he leans down to hiss her. But when he looks up, the electric clock on the desk across from him catches his eye. Its nearly ten thirty! Shit! “Shit”, he mutters under his breath. 

“What?” Adrianna breaks away from hissing his stomach to look up at him. 

Ben steels himself. This is going to be unpleasant. 

After he’s helped her gather her things and prodded Adrianna out the door, Ben collapses back onto his bed and pulls the sheets over his head, staying under as long as he can before throwing them off and flopping over on his stomach to go back to sleep. Only a few short minutes later, Ben is awakened by banging at the door. With a loud groan, Ben shouts, “Come in!” 

“We can’t, you little shit! You refused to give us a key this time!” 

So angry he could strangle someone, Ben growls and kicks the desk as he stumbles to the door, throws it open, and jumps back into bed. Ben doesn’t watch the two men enter his room, only listens as one of them mutter something about anger management. 

“Didn’t anyone teach you how to knock?” Ben growls, finally lifting his arm from his face to glare at the men. 

“Yeah. You’re mom did, you little bastard.” Art Deetwin collapses his small round body into the chair in the corner. Could he possibly have put on more weight since last week? 

“Funny how she did such a horrible job since she would do so well at ending your pathetic little career.” 

Art loosens his dark red tie, which contrasts nicely with his dark blue suit, and grins at the young man. “I missed you too.” 

“Mr. Solo, I apologize for disrupting your very busy morning”, Charlie Trio gives the disheveled room a once over with a scrutinizing gaze, “but your mother contacted us about the event you are supposedly attending.” The tall, thin man in a cream-colored suit and yellow bowtie, gives Ben the eyebrow. “The one happening in town, tonight.” 

“You can’t just change things without telling us, kid.” Art pulls out a box of cigarettes and rolls one between his thumb and pointer finger. “Two weeks ago we had the plane scheduled to leave tonight.” Of course, his manager, Maz, had sent her two assistants to babysit him on tour. As if he didn’t spend enough time with them growing up. Ben had been on tour for three months now and is nearing the end. He just has two more concerts in Tennessee tomorrow before he is finished for the year. 

Giving up on the prospect of sleep, Ben climbs out of bed and pulls on his robe. “No. I’ll be flying out tonight as planned.”

“But your Mother-.” Trio begins, but Ben hushes him with a wave of his hand. 

“I never made her any promises. I said it might go to her event, just to get her off my back. She’ll barely notice I’m not there.” 

Art puts the cigarette between his lips and pulls out a lighter. “Yeah, sure, man. She totally won’t notice. It isn’t as if you’re her only son or something.” He finally notices the dirty look Trio has been giving him and huffs, tucking the cigs and lighter back into his jacket. 

Ben riffles through the clothes hanging in the closet, searching for his favorite pair of pants. “I don’t have time something like that. I have to be in Nashville by tomorrow morning, so I can finish this god damn tour. Then, I can think about going to parties and shit like that. She’ll be fine. I saw her last night at the concert and she didn’t even say anything about it.” 

“Listen, you little ungrateful snot!” Art jumps to his feet and tries to get in Ben’s face, which would have worked if he wasn’t so short. Ben, with his thick sturdy body and long legs, looms above the tiny man, but that doesn’t discourage him. “Your mother is the reason you’re even on this tour, the reason you are successful at all. She made you practice all those hours as a kid and introduced you to the right people. You owe her, at least, to show up for her event.”

Art is right. His mother is the reason he became a musician. She had pushed and prodded and yanked him to fame. But had remained popular because he was one of the best, his talent was unmatched. His mother hadn’t given it to him. He had worked for that. It makes Ben angry hearing this little man suggest he it wasn’t his talent that let him keep his success, but his mother’s social standing. 

“Shut up!” He snaps, shoving Art out of his space. “At least I have something to show for what I do. You haven’t accomplished anything your sad life.” Art steps up again to argue, but Ben’s had enough. “Get out! Get the hell out of my room right now!” 

Art casts him one last glare before huffing out of the room. Trio follows in his wake but pauses in the doorway. 

“What?!” Ben growls as Trio assesses him. 

“Madam Leia didn’t want us to tell you, but she’s hosting this gala for you.” Ben’s eyebrows shoot up. “She’s doing it to celebrate your success and celebrating your first visit home in over a year." Ben stays very quiet and still, messy, dark hair falling into his eyes. Trio sighs, “I’m afraid she’s going to be quite disappointed.” And then he’s gone. And Ben Solo is alone in his hotel room once again. 

...

Silently swearing every curse he knows down upon Charlie Trio and that ridiculous excuse for a human being he calls a partner, Ben Solo stands in the very back of the elevator behind a large family made up mostly of kids. He prays to God that none of them just so happen to be one of his fans and ask him to take a picture with every one of the children. Thankfully, none of them cast him a glance even though he’s dressed in a tux. So, he’s left to tap his foot and wonder why the person who invented elevators couldn’t have made them faster. 

When the doors finally open Ben manages to slip by them and get out before any more obstacles get in his way. His long legs carry him quickly through the hotel lobby, his fancy, shiny shoes clicking on the reflective black floor. Giving the man at the front desk a curt nod, Ben hopes they’ll hold off housekeeping until he gets back to have his room cleared of the mess he’d made as he paced and raged for the past hour trying to make up his mind. He’d made a last-minute decision to go to his mother’s stupid event, which, in his mind, makes up for ruining every glass thing in his room.

Once outside, Ben glances down at his phone to see that his uber is still three minutes away. “Shit.” The gala had started fifteen minutes ago. He pulled his heavy dress coat collar up around his chin to fend off the nippy Boston wind. It’s snowing, and the flakes drift lazily down from the black sky to settle on his hair and nose. 

He’s been standing there for a while before realizing a kid, about eight or nine, has been starring at him the whole time. The kid is holding his dad’s hand as they wait on the curb for a taxi. Now, Ben doesn’t hate kids, he just really doesn’t want to have to interact with them. When the boy doesn’t look away, Ben gives him an awkward nod. “Hey”, the kid says getting a familiar look in his eyes. Ben inwardly groans. Don’t say it. Don’t say it! “Aren’t you guy who plays the violin?” The boy’s father looks up from his phone as Ben plasters on his “fans smile”. 

“Oh yeah, we were at your concert last night!” The man is beginning to fumble in his pockets. He’s looking for something for Ben to autograph, of course. 

All of a sudden, like the angel sent straight from heaven to rescue him, Ben’s uber arrives. Before the man can even ask, he bounds over the slush of the street and climbs inside the black SUV. The boy watches him leave with visible disappointment. Ben might feel guilty if he wasn’t already on the way to do his good deed for the week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bar tender does his best to smile politely, “I’m sorry sir, we only serve one drink at a time. What’ll you have.” 
> 
> Ben lifts his eyes up to roof and lets out deep sigh. He is not in the mood. “You see that woman over there?” His hand shoots out to point out Leia in the middle of a semi-circle of her friends. 
> 
> “Ah, yes.” 
> 
> “She’s my mother. So, I’ll have that glass of scotch and two shots, thank you.” The bar tender’s eyes light up with understanding and he nearly trips over himself to pour the drinks. Ben turns his back on the man, forcing his hand to stay clasped in a fist at his side rather than through the man’s nose. He doesn’t even cast the man a glance as he delivers the drinks. Ben downs both shots and then sips the scotch slowly and leans against the bar.

The attendants take his coat and offer him a glass of champagne as soon as he steps through the door. They recognized him on sight and one man escorts him to the ballroom of the largest hotel in the city, which is already packed with people dressed in their finery and dripping with jewels. Of course, every is dressed in their best, this is Leia Organa’s party. Being the heir of the richest family in the state does have some plusses, namely, people are too concerned with impressing her that they don’t dare give her any bullshit. 

Thankfully, Ben doesn’t recognize more than a dozen faces in the immediate crowd. He may be able to sneak away to the bar and get something strong in his system before having to face his parents. He’s about to do just that when there is an incessant, annoying tapping at his elbow. It’s the attendant. Is he still there? Ben resists the urge to roll his eyes and lifts his eyebrows in ascent. “Excuse me, sir. Just this way.” He sweeps his arm out dramatically towards the most crowded part of the elegant, long room. So much for his plan. Screw it! Ben throws back the rest of his champagne like a shot and stalks through the crowd. 

Leia Organa is wearing an elegant, navy blue gown with a straight skirt that sweeps out at the ends. The uniquely shaped collar and sheer sleeves sparkle with tiny gem stones. Her hair is up in one of her traditional buns with a braid wrapped around it. She is conversing with a group friends, but when she sees her son, Leia’s face lights up with a wide smile. “Ben! You made it.” She abruptly leaves her companions to glide over to meet him. He bends down awkwardly so that she can loop her arms around his shoulders and plant a kiss on his cheek. He is uncomfortably aware of everyone in the vicinity giving the reunion their full attention. 

“Hello Mother, Ben says straightening up to his full height, trying his best to ignore every person in the room. 

“This that all you have to say to me? You’re late!” 

“Sorry”, he shrugs good-naturedly. “My uber was a very slow driver.” 

She slips her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Well you should have called me. I could have sent one of the drivers out to pick you up.” 

“No. That wouldn’t have been necessary I-.” 

“Ben!” His father, Han Solo (it had been a huge scandal when Leia didn’t take her husband’s name and an even bigger one when he refused to take hers), emerges form the crowd and places a heavy palm on his shoulder. “Glad you could make it.” They share a brief hug, that Han seems a little too happy to give; they have never been big huggers. Ben guesses Han’s enthusiasm isn’t so much about being happy to see him as having an excuse to ignore the small clump of wealthy businessmen that had followed him over and now stand off to the side, just waiting to swoop in. Han pats his son’s back again. “Look, Chewie is here too, and of course your “co-managers”. Han points out their friends in through the mass of people, making air quotes while talking about Art and Charlie Trio. They both wave at Ben from the spot at the refreshment table. As he turns away, Ben subtly gives them the finger. 

“Hey kid”, Chewie says as he circles Ben in a bear-like embrace. 

“Chewie”. Ben greets him without having to pretend he’s glad to see him. He’s the only he’s one here Ben genuinely likes. The big, burley man was almost a head taller than Ben and unnaturally hairy with a long bushy beard. Han met Chewie while he was in the air force with Ben’s Uncle Luke. Chewie had been Han’s copilot and they had saved each other’s lives. After they came home, Chewie had just sort of stuck around and he and Han built airplanes together. Chewie’s real name was Chewbacca’n Wook, but no one could pronounce it properly, so they just called him Chewie. He was born in Norway but had moved to the US when he was a teenager, just in time to join the air force. 

Leia catches the arm of a server as he dances through the din of guests. “Go and get my son a drink, won’t you?” The server nods and Leia turns her attention back on Ben. “That was a wonderful performance you gave last night. I’m telling you, you get better every time I see you play.” Ben just smiles and nods, focusing his eyes on the raised stage at their end of the room where a string quartet is playing. Tchaikovsky, he muses to himself, quartet number 2 in F minor. How cliché.

“It’s a shame we didn’t get to see you after the concert. We waited around for quite some time, but you never came out.” Leia is studying his face a peculiar way. Ben has to resist the urge to tug at his collar. Where the hell is that guy with the drink? 

“Oh, sorry. I had a lot more people to meet last night than usual, more photo-ops and such. By the time I got out of there I expected you would have been long gone. He tries to look as sincere as possible and hide the little prick of guilt he feels in his chest. But, it’s much harder to lie to someone who lived with you through your teenage emo faze. Ben clears his throat as a wave of panic rolls over him. This is not working. She knows he was avoiding her, and pretty soon she’s going to start asking about any women in his life and what plans he has for the future. 

He clears his throat again pressing a hand to her shoulder. “Hey, I’m gonna go see about that drink. I’ll be right back.”

“Ok, hurry back”, she says latching onto his hand as he slowly backs away, “We’re having a special guest violinist who is supposed to be very good, and I also have a lot of friends anxious to congratulate you.” 

“Alright Mom.” He finally extracts himself from her hand and makes a b-line for the long bar in the back corner of the room. Ben vaguely recognizes the faces of friends and acquaintances from his childhood as he slips quickly by. 

Slamming his palms down on the bar top, nearly making the bar tender lose his grip on the glass in his hand, Ben surveys the selection of drinks on the rack behind the bar. “I’ll have a scotch, neat, and two vodka shots!” 

The bar tender does his best to smile politely, “I’m sorry sir, we only serve one drink at a time. What’ll you have?” 

Ben lifts his eyes up to roof and lets out deep sigh. He is not in the mood. “You see that woman over there?” His hand shoots out to point out Leia in the middle of a semi-circle of her friends. 

“Ah, yes.” 

“She’s my mother. So, I’ll have that glass of scotch and two shots, thank you.” The bar tender’s eyes light up with understanding and he nearly trips over himself to pour the drinks. Ben turns his back on the man, forcing his hand to stay clasped in a fist at his side rather than through the man’s nose. He doesn’t even cast the man a glance as he delivers the drinks. Ben downs both shots and then sips the scotch slowly and leans against the bar. 

Before he’s half way through his drink, the lights suddenly dim and the stage is flooded with spot lights. For one irrational moment he fears his mother will step out on stage and announce that her son will be preforming, and his fingers tense up on the glass. But Leia knows not to try anything like that, not anymore. He doesn’t relax until a blonde woman with small buns on the side of her head, in a white chiffon gown, floats on stage carrying a violin under her arm. The crowd erupts into applause but are silenced by the raising of her bow. The silence in the room is broken only by her first piercing note, a high g#. 

He can’t do this. He can’t. He should have followed his original instincts and never come here. He could be on his personal plane right now, sleeping or having amazing sex with any woman he invited to come with him. Running a hand through his long dark hair, Ben downs his entire glass and plunks it down on the bar. “Fill ‘er up.” The bar tender hesitantly obeys. Ben scoops up the glass and, without looking back, stalks towards the exit. 

The attendant at the door hands him his coat and he slings it over his shoulder, chugging back the smoky liquid. He smashes the glass down against the front stoop for good measure and swaggers down the sidewalk. His anxiety dissipates more the further her gets from his parents and their despicable friends. 

Twenty minutes later, Ben finds himself wandering aimlessly through the snowy streets of Chicago, not knowing what else to. He isn’t even headed in the right direction for his hotel. Why would he? What would he do there? Just the thought of that cramped room, full of the evidence of his anger, almost gives him a panic attack. So what, if the cleaners find the mess; he’ll just pay for it later. Maybe he’ll get a different room, one higher up so he can see more of the city. 

Ben can hold his alcohol better than most, but he’s definitely feeling the multiple drinks, warming his blood, clouding his head, and fueling his dark thoughts. If he were to lie down right here in the snow, would they find him before it was too late. He wonders how many people would actually care about his death, instead of writing some fake-ass sappy tweet on twitter. Not many, he thinks, and then laughs dryly. 

“Shit!” He needs to get out of the street and find something to distract his ever-devolving mind. Ben nearly drops his phone three times as he attempts to summon an uber. When it arrives, he collapses into the back seat. 

By the time they’re back in town, Ben is feeling much better, having invited an old hook-up to come over for the night. He’ll fuck away his frustrations tonight, and then fly home to LA tomorrow. Then, he’ll have the holidays to come up with a plan for next year. He just has to go by the concert hall and pick up his violin. “Take me to Alderaan Hall”, he tells his driver, who changes course without a reply. 

…

Ben closes the thick, blue metal door behind him and tucks his keys back into his pocket. During his college years, he’d preformed there enough, they’d just given him a key. His family were long time supporters and donors of the owners of the Hall and Ben had given his first dozen performances here as a child. In fact, they let him have free reign over the place and let him use the back rooms for practicing or storage. Last night he’d been in such a hurry to leave with the girl he’d met, and avoid his parents, he had just locked his music and violin in one of the rooms in the backstage area. It was much more secure than taking it out with him or leaving it in the hotel. 

The light is stark and unnaturally bright in the long hallway that is reserved for personnel and performers only. Doors branch off all the way down the left side of the hallway and at the end is the staircase that leads to the stage area. The sound of muffled applause seeps through the doorway on the right that opens into the audience area. A line of women dressed in tights, costumes and body paint startle him as they emerge from the room nearest the stage entrance and run up the stairs, their heels clacking on the tile. A show must be just about to start. 

Ben glances at the door to the room protecting his violin and then back at the door to the audience area. Maybe he’ll just have a quick peek to see what kind of show it is. Making as little noise as possible, he slips through the door and into the mostly dark auditorium. He inconspicuously slides along the wall until he finds an empty seat and lowers into it, arranging himself as if he’d been there the whole time. 

The curtain lifts to reveal a nearly empty stage, backdropped by a simple dessert background. The only other thing on stage is a woman. A young woman, with thin arms and her hair done up in three buns along the back of her head. She is on her hands and knees with her head bowed, statue still. The audience doesn’t make a sound. Ben finds himself intrigued, holding his breath with the rest of them. 

The music begins with a flourish, a lone flute playing a simple seven-note melody before being joined by the orchestra. The woman lifts her head with the first note, letting the music lift her torso straight and tall followed by her arms that stretch up as far as they can, as if trying to caress the sky. She fixes the crowd with a dark, piercing gaze. It’s only for a moment, before the music guides her to her feet, but Ben swears she is looking right into his soul. 

The music is light and hopeful and strangely full of depth as it promises adventures for tomorrow; it send her spinning. Apparently, they put a large sand box on the stage, because as she dances, the young woman kicks up sprays of dirt that spirals out from her nimble toes. She is wearing a simple tan dress, wrapped with layers of sheer cream fabric that billow in her wake. The dancer is like a force of nature, fluid but quick and precise, dancing in a style Ben hadn’t really seen before. The only thing he can think to call it is contemporary. 

As the scene draws to a close, the dancer settles back onto the sand, lifting her face to the sky as if waiting for someone. Then the curtain falls. Ben barely has time to take a few shaky breaths before it rises again to reveal the same woman in the same position, but then she jumps up as the music swells into a heroic adventurous piece. All of a sudden, men in white uniforms appear out of the shadows. They march like soldiers and wear helmets of white plastic with menacing black eyes. The woman dances away as quickly as she can, but there are too many of the soldiers and they surround her. Then an African American man runs on stage, grabs her hand and leads her to safely. They dance together, gracefully through the spinning soldiers until some kind of star ship arrives and they climb inside. 

In the next scene the two are in a forest. The woman is still dressed in the same outfit. They playfully dance together, weaving between trees. But they get separated. She tries to find him, but he has disappeared. Suddenly, more of the soldiers are coming at her from all sides. She finds a staff and tries to fend them off, but is surrounded. The music turns low and sinister, a deep hum, as a new figure enter the scene. He is very tall and clad in all black, with long flowing robes and a sword at his side. He draws it and levels it at her chest. She is frozen in place as he studies her through a thick black mask. He dances around her like a beast about to pounce. She faints and as she falls, the man in black scoops her up in his arms and carries her out of sight. 

When the curtain lifts again the stage is dark. Then a single spot light falls on the middle of the stage where the heroin is strapped to a vertical chair. The orchestra begins to play, but this time the music is deep and sinister with a deeply emotional and tragic tone. It starts with the cellos and bases and horns on a seven-note melody, slow and melancholy, repeated several times, building with intensity. As it builds, they begin to see a dark figure circling her circle of light. The light slowly grows wider and he reveals himself to her, dancing around her chair and up in her face as if he’s interrogating her. The music picks up pace with the brass section taking on a new melody. 

At first the woman is afraid, but soon grows bolder spitting in his face, onto his mask. And then, surprizingly, he removes it to reveal a handsome pale man with silky dark hair. Something passes between them and he dances away in shame. The story continues with a series of scenes, a new song for each, with her escaping and running away as the dark man peruses her. She changes into a grey outfit. He chases her through many different environments, until one day she runs into him as he’s bathing in the sea. He is shirtless and she stares. When she tries to leave, he catches her hand and they dance together. She keeps trying to get away, but he holds on until she gives into the dance. When he turns around to get his shirt, she runs away. 

They meet several more times as he chases her, but she always finds a way to escape. Finally, a group of the soldiers find her and surround her. It looks like they might kill her, but then the man in black jumps in and starts killing them. She joins, and they dance together as one deadly unit, destroying them all. They kiss.

In the next scene, the back ground is dark and covered by blinking stars. The two dance among the stars, her on wires above, and him on the ground. They keep dancing by each other, trying to clasp hands, but can never quite reach. They trade places, just missing each other, and then back again. With a swell of music, her wires seem to be cut because she falls- but he catches her, and the wires carry them up into the air together. They spin in each other’s arms and then stretch out, grasping hands, as a ying and yang symbol appears behind them. They are lowered until they sit on the ground, her head on his shoulder. They kiss, and the curtain falls. 

The audience explodes with applause, immediately jumping to their feet to cheer as the actors come back for their bow. Ben feels like he must be in a trance, because he barely registers joining the crowd in a standing ovation. Then the performers disappear, and the lights come on. He just stands there, unable to pull himself out of the spell this show has put him in. Are those tears on his face? Ben shakes his head to clear it and then swipes a hand down his face to dry it. Numbly, he makes his way down the aisle to the door where he’d entered, nearly running into one of the dancers as a group of them rush on their way to their dressing room. The hallway is chaos, but he manages to reach his room, fumble with the lock, and duck inside. 

Ben leans back against the closed door, struggling to catch his breath. Its as if all his senses are heightened, like he’s had an out of body experience. He can’t remember the last time something had moved him so deeply. He rubs at his eyes with long fingers and feels his lashes are still wet. Maybe nothing ever had.

After several minutes composing himself, Ben gathers up his music under one arm and takes his case by the handle. Stepping outside, he finds the hallway mostly empty. When he glances to his left, he sees someone sitting on the bench near the stage stairs. His heart jumps. Its her, the woman who had starred in the play. He ducks back inside the room, hoping she didn’t see him acting like a complete idiot. Ben takes several breaths. Why is he so nervous? He feels like he might if he had just run across a celebrity. Damn it, he wants to go talk to her, to tell her how great her performance had been. He wants to give her something in return for moving him so deeply. If he doesn’t do it now, he’ll never have another chance. “Come on, get it together. It’s not like you don’t know anything about this. People literally come up to you all the time to ask for a selfie.” 

Clenching his fists in resolve, Ben exits the room, closing the door behind him. At a purposeful, but causal pace, he heads in her direction. Before he’s figured out a game plan, he’s walked right by her. She didn’t even look up. He stops near the stairs, which is not where he needs to go, and then turns on his heel. 

“Um, excuse me.” Ben tries to keep his voice steady as he stops in front of her. When she hears his voice, she looks up from where she’d been riffling through her duffel bag. Her eyes are just as piercing and discerning as they had been on the stage. They send a shock through him. He swallows loudly and curses himself internally. The young woman lifts her thin eyebrows in response, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Um, I was just-.” He shifts the music under his arm nervously. “I was wondering if you know where the exit is.” Wow, his mind is a real piece of work. 

Her shoulders relax, and she cracks a small smile. “Yeah, it’s right down there.” She extends an arm and points toward the other end of the hall with a slim finger. “You know, the big blue doors.” She’s British. That is unexpected. 

Ben gives a breathy laugh. “Oh, yeah right. Duh.” He slaps his palm to his forehead a little too forcefully and she glances back down at her bag. “Ah, hey, you were in that play just now. You were the lead, right?” 

Politely, she drags her eyes away from her bag and smiles shyly. “Yes. That’s me.”

“Wow, well I just want to tell you how wonderful you were. That was an amazing performance!”

“Oh, thank you.” She reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Her brown hair in a messy bun and she’s wearing leggings and a purple hoodie. 

“Yeah, it’s really nice to meet you. I’m Ben, by the way.” Can she see how much he’s sweating? 

“I’m Rey”, she shakes the hand he’s extended to her. Her grip is firm and solid. Of course she’s strong, with all that dance training. “Are you with the orchestra?” A look of confusion crosses his face, and she motions to the violin case at his side. 

“Oh, no. I’m not. I had a program here yesterday. I just came by to pick up my things.” 

“And you snuck into my show?” Rey gasps in mock horror. 

“Ah, sorry?” Ben chuckles. 

She waves dismissively, “No. It’s cool. We’re just happy people are so interested.” 

“So, you guys tour around?”

“Well a little, but only inside the state because we haven’t been doing this very long. Everyone in the show lives here. Before this I just worked as a dance instructor in a studio on the west side of town.” Rey falls silent and her eyes, once again, drift down to her bag. He’s been talking to her for too long. 

“Oh, well. Congratulations on your show. I’d better go, now that I know where the doors are.” 

Rey chuckles good naturedly as he begins to walk away. “Alright then. Thanks.” 

Ben resists the urge to look back until he’s pushing open the door. She’s back to searching her bag and doesn’t even look up. He tares his eyes away and plunges into the freezing darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ben, calm down. It will only be for a month or so. You need to stay there and play nice with your parents. Convince them you’re doing just fine, and that they should support you. In the meantime, you can learn some new pieces and get your plans straightened out.”  
> “Hell no! Maz, no way in hell!” Ben jumps up from the bed and starts pacing the room. “There has to be some other way!”  
> “There isn’t.” Maz’s voice grows gentle and soft as she says, “Your parents think you hate them. They are worried you might be in trouble.”  
> “I do, I do hate them!”  
> “You don’t. Ben, whatever is going on, I know you don’t hate them.”  
> He falls against the wall and slides down onto the carpet. “Maz, I can’t.” Ben is almost pleading, “I can’t stay here. I can’t be here with them. You know what it’s like.”

A bright light shining against his eyelids wakes Ben in the morning. The break in the curtains lets one long strip of sunlight inside the dark room and across his face. He rolls over, away from the light, and groans. His head is pounding. Vaguely, he remembers stumbling into his, blessedly clean, hotel room last night with a bottle of wine clutched in his fist. He’d stolen it from a cart a hotel employee was pushing down the hall. Bottle in hand, he had stripped off his clothes and collapsed on the bottom of the tub, under the hot spray. He’d jacked off and then accidently spilled the remaining wine all over himself. Ben is still naked, so he must not have bothered to put anything on before dragging himself to bed. 

A while later, he’s awakened again by his phone buzzing to inform him of unread messages. Somehow it had ended up down near his feet buried in a knot of sheets. He unlocks the phone and an alert informs him of seven unread messages. “Shit!” Could they be from his mom? His dad? He clicks the message app and is relieved to see that they are all from a contact labeled Cristy. Who is that again? Oh yeah, the girl he’d planned on sleeping with last night. Shit. 

Hey im here. Open up you naughty boy!

Hello

Do I have the right room? 420? 

What the hell! Where are you? 

You asshole! 

I waited there for thirty minutes! 

You’re a dick! Don’t ever call this number again! 

Ben sighs heavily, eyes flicking up to the clock at the top of his screen. It’s almost noon. He calls room service and orders a large breakfast. Between the tantrum yesterday afternoon and his mom’s gala, he’d forgotten to eat anything and now he’s famished. 

Turning on the tv, Ben settles in to devour the meal on the tray before him. He skips through several boring news channels before settling on one and turns the volume down low. He’s slathering his waffles in syrup when he catches himself humming a tune. What is that? Where had he heard it? For a moment, Ben thinks it must have been the song the violinist had been playing last night at the event. But, no, that doesn’t sound right. This song had been played with flutes. It’s bothering him. He can’t stop humming it. 

Then, like a tidal wave, the events of the night before come rushing back to him. Blundering through the snow. The show he’s snuck into. The euphoric trance it had put him in. The first tears in months. The way he’d made a complete fool out of himself, awkwardly approaching the woman who had played the lead. He really had done all that. The song he’d been humming was the very first one from the play, the one that introduced the heroine. 

He settles back to enjoy his breakfast, thinking, thank god I am leaving this city today. This place is messing with my head. But, when he’s scraped the plates clean and thinks about packing for his trip, he realizes he doesn’t want to. He’s so tired, emotionally and physically, and just the thought of getting on a plane makes him want to burrow down into the covers and never come out. What the hell, he’ll just stay inside all day and then leave tomorrow. It’s not like he has anything to get back to. 

As he dresses, he finds himself humming that song again, but he can’t remember the whole thing. Curious, Ben pulls out his iPad and pulls up YouTube. His fingers hover over the keypad. He has no idea what to type. His eyes automatically drift to the recommended videos where a recording of his latest performance already waits. He resists the urge to click it immediately. He’ll just review it later. 

Ben’s first violin instructor had insisted he record himself during practice and performances, so he could watch them back and take note of his mistakes to improve on next time. After that instructor left and another one took his place, Leia had insisted they could continue the practice, at least for recitals, and Ben had just done it out of habit ever since. 

What was the name of the play, Ben thinks as he pulls up Google. Something about stars. Star dreamers? No. He tries to recall the what had been printed on the outside of the program in the hand of the man who’d sat beside him. Star Stories? Star Wars? No, that’s not right. Ah, now he remembers. He types “War of the Stars play” into the search bar. There aren’t very many results, only a few articles. The first one he clicks on is a review of the play done in somewhere in Vermont. At least she gave them five stars. 

The next one was published only a few months ago. The play, War of the Stars has quickly been growing in popularity, many groups popping up across the country. The play was written by George Lucas, a man from Michigan who Ben has never been heard of before. The music was composed by John Williams, who had composed for several other hit, off-Broadway plays. A few are mentioned but none sound familiar. “The Shark Stalks”, “Not of This World”, “The Dinosaurs Awaken”, and “Secrets under the Temple”. The play was a culmination of nearly a decade’s worth of hard work. That is why they decided not to release the playwright and music to the general public. Apparently, it’s very hard to get your hands on a copy. 

Going back to the search page, Ben checks the other links but can’t find any other information about the play besides some rave reviews from critics. There are related videos at the top of the page. The first one he clicks on is live recording of one of the scenes near the end of the play. He searches through several others until he finds the one he’s been looking for. The song is called “She who sleeps in the dust”. 

This clip must have been filmed on a phone or a crappy camera because he can barely make out the stage in the barely lit room. The picture might be blurry and shaky, and the audio is patchy, but when those first notes are played, he knows he’s come to the right place. The orchestra is much smaller than the one from last night and the dancer isn’t nearly as good, but this is the song. He lies back on the bed, playing it over and over a few times, eyes closed as he pictures it in his mind. 

Eventually, giving up on restarting the song over again, he puts it on repeat and wanders the room as he listens. The more he hears it, the more he loves this song. It embodies the character perfectly. It cycles through several different melodies, growing and flourishing as reaches the climax. And perhaps, the thing he loves most about this song is the ending. It copies the beginning, the eight-note melody, played by flute, ending it out. But what is strangely unsettling and yet hopeful is the way it fades away at the end, repeating the same two notes until it’s gone. 

It is nearly dark when Ben finally stops the music and orders room service. While he eats, he watches reruns of The Office playing on TV. This is one show that is guaranteed to put anyone in a good mood. When the meal has been cleared away, Ben pulls a chair over to the window and gazes out at the darkened city. He feels strangely peaceful and relaxed. Something is in his soul is stirring. 

Ben finds himself automatically reaching for his violin. When the bow is rosined, and the strings are tuned, he relaxes into a moment of quiet reflection, holding the instrument against his chest. He runs his fingers down the strings and they hum under his fingertips. And when he raises the violin to his shoulder and lifts the bow, he isn’t surprised to find himself playing the first notes of “She who Sleeps in the Dust”. He tries to play the whole song from memory, but soon settles into playing the same two lines over and over again. He really needs to see about getting the sheet music to the whole play, so he can learn the whole thing. Ben lets out a contented sigh as his arms fall and his head dips in sleep. But peace can only last so long. 

He is jolted awake by the sound of his ringtone blaring through the room. Heart racing, Ben stumbles through the room searching madly for the damn device. It’s Maz Kanata. Ben groans and falls back onto the bed. He’d better answer, even though he really doesn’t want to. She is the one person who he can’t ignore. 

“Hello.” 

“Ben Solo! You idiot. You were supposed to call me after the concert.”

“Sorry Maz, I had other things on my mind.” 

“I’m sure you did.” Maz sounds more agitated than normal. 

“Sorry, it was my parents. They-.”

The older woman cuts him off with snort. “Your mother called me.” SHIT! After a long pause she continues. “She told me how you ran off after the concert.”

“Maz, I-.” 

“And on top of that, you left in the middle of her event, the event she had orchestrated because of you.” He wants to interject, but Maz has just begun her tirade. “She told me she’s very worried about you and the direction your life is going. She thinks maybe you need to take a break and get some guidance. Thankfully, I was able to convince her you would come around, but I don’t think that’ll hold very long.”

Ben buries his head under his arms as Maz continues in a slightly calmer tone. “Ben, you know we are still relying on your parents support. They are paying for you apartment and the plane and the pilot. They bought you that car. And, they pay my salary, Ben. You are not the only one who benefits from their generosity.”

“I know Maz.” Ben says. 

“Do you? Because you seem to be doing a wonderful job convincing me otherwise. Your album is not doing nearly as well as we had planned, so we barely made any profit from the tour because we’ll have to use that money for traveling and boarding expenses. The hotel you’re staying in has racked up nearly a week’s worth of album sales. The only way you’re able to live as extravagantly as you do, fancy hotels, showy clothes, and five-star restaurants; is because your parents are covering the heavy expenses. You even missed your last two tour concerts, which doesn’t help in the slightest.” 

“Yes, Maz! I know all of this. As if you don’t remind me enough. That’s why I didn’t even want to come here. I knew they would get suspicious. But, listen, I’ll come home tomorrow. We can come up with a new plan. If can just change my strategy at bit, I’ll be able to make more from the tours. I was thinking, we could do another album next year and get a better marketing team to promote it. I’ll get everything back under control and then we can stop depending on them.” 

“Ben.”

Ben is desperate to keep her from saying the thing he doesn’t want to hear. “I think I can go back on tour as soon as march. Maybe I can tour with someone else or-.”

“Ben!”

He falls silent. 

Maz takes a careful breath. “That’s why I called you. You can’t come home tomorrow.”

“What do you mean?” Chills crawl up his skin to the base of his neck. 

“I’ve shut down power to your apartment to conserve bill payments. I’m going to take a break and take on a few new clients for a while. You are going to need to stay there, in Boston, with your parents.”

Ben’s veins turn to ice. “What the FUCK?! You’re kidding me right now!”

“Ben, calm down. It will only be for a month or so. You need to stay there and play nice with your parents. Convince them you’re doing just fine, and that they should support you. In the meantime, you can learn some new pieces and get your plans straightened out.”

“Hell no! Maz, no way in hell!” Ben jumps up from the bed and starts pacing the room. “There has to be some other way!”

“There isn’t.” Maz’s voice grows gentle and soft as she says, “Your parents think you hate them. They are worried you might be in trouble.”

“I do, I do hate them!”

“You don’t. Ben, whatever is going on, I know you don’t hate them.”

He falls against the wall and slides down onto the carpet. “Maz, I can’t.” Ben is almost pleading, “I can’t stay here. I can’t be here with them. You know what it’s like.” 

“Yes, I do. But, I don’t know why, what caused this rift between you, nor do I want or need to. That is your business. It’s between you and your family. My business is helping you succeed, and this is what it will take to get you there. I mean well”, Maz chuckles softly, “even though it doesn’t seem like it when I’m yelling at you.”

Ben allows himself a small laugh. His head falls back against the wall as he whispers, “Yeah. Sure.”

“You can do this, son. Get through this month. Play nice with your parents, fake it as much as you need to, but convince them to help you through this dry spot. Relax. Get back into your music. Visit some old friends. Take care of yourself. I’ll be here if you need me. All right?”

“All right.” 

“I’ll talk to you again soon. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” Ben clicks off his phone, and with discontent swirling in his stomach, he chucks it across the room and into the shadows. It can go to hell! It can all go to hell! Just let him fall asleep right here and never wake up. 

...

 

The sign above the door says, “Jabba’s Palace”, but palace is last word Ben would use to describe the ancient, cramped music shop. The store, stuffed in the middle a long row of identical store-fronts along the side of a side street in downtown Boston, is pealing green paint and the front windows look like they haven’t been cleaned in several hundred years. 

A bell tinkles above his head as Ben opens the door and steps inside the musty room. The white lights across the celling are artificially bright, but also somehow dim and bleak. It immediately gives Ben a headache and a nauseating slap of déjà vu. An albino salesman with long hair emerges from the shelves of music at the sound of the bell, but quickly slinks back into the shadows when he sees Ben, his red eyes widening in recognition. A long time ago, he and his friends had made it their summer afternoon entertainment to come in the shop while Jabba was away and harass the salesman. Ben can’t help smirking at the memory. 

As Ben nears the sales counter at the back of the shop, he glimpses the hulking figure of the notorious Jabba Hutt. “Do my eyes deceive me? Is that the young Solo boy or have I finally smoked enough pot to stay in a constant state of delusion?” The deep, bass voice rumbles through the room. 

Ben grins and awkwardly raises his arms. “No, it’s really me. Though, the other may also be true.”

The huge man slaps the counter lets his abnormally wide mouth fall open in a laugh. “Good to see you. I thought you might be dead or abducted by aliens, after all the time you’ve been gone.” Jabba is the largest man Ben has ever encountered. He is over six feet, bald, and over four hundred pounds heavy, and Ben has no idea how old he is because he looks like he should already be dead. He has large eyes, and his pale skin seems to have taken on a sickly green tint. When, at six years old, Leia had brought Ben here the first time, he had accused Jabba of being a giant slug. Leia had been mortified, but Jabba had only laughed and gave Ben a handful of jolly ranchers. 

“Don’t you read the news?” Ben crosses his arms and frowns. 

“Not really. Did you die? Are you a ghost?”

“No, but I’ve been in news quite a bit. You would know where I’ve been if you read it.”

Jabba squints and leans forward on the counter. “So, you’re still playing. You pretty good by now?”

Ben shrugs in false modesty, “That’s what they say.” He takes a long look around the store and sighs. “This place hasn’t changed a bit.” 

“That’s not true”, Jabba counters, “I put in an air conditioning unit last May.” Ben rolls his eyes. “And, I changed all the posters three weeks ago.”

“Listen, Jabba, I need you to help me with something important.” Despite the unpleasant location, underlying scent of pot in the air, and terrifying appearance of Jabba himself, Ben has been coming here most of his life. Mr. Hutt is a collector of rare and old sheet music. He is the only one in the city who can hook you up with out of print or discontinued music, and that’s why Jabba’s Palace is a popular spot for many musicians. Jabba was the only supplier of Ben’s violin music as he grew up, and many a time Ben had come in looking for an obscure music demand, and Jabba had never steered him wrong. Ben has complete confidence in this strange man. 

“Whatever you need, my friend.” Jabba slithers over to his outdated desktop computer. 

Ben leans his elbows on the countertop and says, “There’s this musical show with dancing called War of the Stars. It’s becoming very popular, but apparently, it’s pretty difficult to get you hands on a copy of the music or the script. Since I don’t know anyone better, I figured you might be able to get me the music through one of your sources. Money isn’t an issue. I’ll pay anything it takes.” 

The old man taps away at his computer a few moments before looking up. “Hmmm. Sorry, man. It’s not listed on any of the cites. There is no mention on the boards, and none of my contacts have it on their lists.”

“What? That can’t be the case!” He frowns and shakes his head, “Someone has to have it. All the articles I read say it’s getting really popular. Are you sure no one has it?”

Jabba squints at the screen again. “No. There isn’t even a mention of it anywhere. Either this show isn’t nearly as popular as you think, or there must be come insane copyright terms on it.”

That’s right. Didn’t the article say something about that? “I think that must be it. I read that the men who wrote it didn’t want it to be shared with the general public or something like that.” 

Jabba nods knowingly. “That does happen from time to time. Some people are very specific about who is aloud to represent their art to the world. There’s just nothing you can do about that.”  
Ben sighs deeply. Of course, nothing ever goes the way he plans. The one thing he was looking forward to today has been canceled, right before he has to visit his parents. “I’m sorry man. I wish I could have helped.” Jabba offers him an apologetic smile. 

“Hey, no problem.” Turning to leave, Ben gives a small salute, “I’ll see you later.”

“I’ll be here”, Jabba calls as Ben exits the building. 

…

 

The family mansion lies nestled behind a sea of snow-covered hills on the outskirts of town, the private drive cutting through the middle like a. The four-story mansion has already been decked out in all the Christmas finery, even though the holiday is still a month away. Every hedge a sculpted tree is dressed in twinkling lights. Wreaths and pine garlands hang over every window and door and poinsettias line the front walk. The tall, white pillars that hold up the gable above the thick, glossy, oak double front doors are wrapped in holly vines woven with mistletoe and thick, golden ribbon. Even though Ben has seen it a million times, he can’t help starring up at the impressive structure as he climbs out of the uber. 

The doorman hurries down the front steps to ask if he can carry anything for Ben. When he sees there is nothing to carry, the doorman runs back up just ahead of Ben to swing the doors open for him. If possible, the entryway is even more packed with Christmas ornamentation. The double, curving staircases leading up to the second landing are twisted with glittering, snow-covered vines with delicate icicles hang down. The room is full of the scents of pine, sugar, and old-fashioned Christmas. His mother appears to have stepped up her decorating game since the last time he’d spent the holidays in this house. 

He’d texted Leia about an hour ago, announcing his visit. She isn’t there to meet him at the door, which means she must still be preparing for his arrival. Thankfully, there is no one in sight, which gives Ben a chance to get a hold on the memories that are bombarding his mind. The good memories. The bad memories. And the really bad memories. 

Might as well get this over with. Ben wanders down the hall to his mother’s office. The door is wide open, and he finds no one inside. There is large oak desk beside the doorway that is covered in stacks of papers and her personal computer. Tall bookcases line both side walls and there is a small sitting area at the far wall, where the family portraits hang. Ben lumbers over to study them. 

There is a painting of Leia, Han, and Ben in the middle. On one side hangs one of Han, Uncle Luke, Leia, Chewie, and Ben. These portraits were both done when he was very young, so he doesn’t remember posing for them. But he has seen them enough times to not to be too impressed. There is only one painting on this wall that has always fascinated him. On the other side is a portrait of his mother, Uncle Luke, and their parents. Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala stand with their arms around each other and a hand each on their children’s shoulders. The twins were in their late teens. 

Ben has never met either of his grandparents. They both died before he was born, his grandmother from childbirth complication from a pregnancy too late in life. The cause of Anakin’s death has always been kept a secret from Ben. None of his family like to talk about him at all. When she was young, Leia had even changed her last name to Organa after her great grandmother on her mother’s side. All Ben knows is that grandpa had gone a little crazy after Padme died and ran away. He ended up mixed up with the wrong people and that led to his death. He thinks about them often; what they were like, what it would be like if they were still around, would they like him if they could meet him. 

“Ben”, Leia enters the room and crosses to her son. “There you are.” She is wearing kaki slacks and a purple button-up blouse. 

“Hey.”

Leia casts a glance at the wall of portraits but Ben turns away as if he hadn’t been looking, wanting to avoid any sensitive topics of conversation. “What brings you here? I was rather surprised to get your text earlier. Charlie told me you had planned to fly home after the event and I’d assumed you’d already left.”

“That’s actually what I’m here to tell you about. I have some good news.” She cocks her head at this. “I’m planning to stay here over the holidays”, Ben continues. A smile lights up his mother’s face, but she tries to suppress it, knowing not to hope for too much. “I have some business to take care of”. A lie. “I can relax here, and I mean, LA isn’t exactly festive.” 

“That is good news!” Leia can’t resist the urge to tug him down for a kiss on the cheek. Ben tries very hard to smile sincerely. “I don’t want to pressure you to come, but I hope you’ll consider coming to the Christmas party and tree lighting.”

Ben had been expecting this and had already planned a response. “Thanks, Mother. That sounds nice.” He takes a deep breath, knowing this must be done. “Mom, I’d like to apologize for the other night. I left your event early and didn’t say anything. I shouldn’t have. Lately, I’ve been around so many people and crowds that I just couldn’t stay there any longer without feeling trapped. I’ve never been very good at these fancy parties.” 

Leia pats his bicep. That’s alright, Son. I understand there-.”

“Chewie don’t you dare start up the Falcon without me! You hairy bastard, get back here now!” Han’s voice drifts down the hallway along with his quickly approaching footsteps. Han Solo marches by the door way and then backtracks, poking his head inside. “Ben?” 

“Dad.”

Han’s eyebrows lift in astonishment at finding his son casually standing in his house. “Uh, good to see you.” Ben offers him a tight-lipped smile. 

“Han”, Leia says, “Ben is staying in town over the holidays. Isn’t that wonderful news?”

This time Han does a better job of hiding his surprise. “Yes. That’s great.” Chewie’s voice can be heard in the distance. It sounds like he’s mocking someone. Han glances back down the hall. “We’ll, I’d better go make sure Chewie doesn’t blow something up. Don’t be a stranger, kid.” 

Leia rolls her eyes and shakes her head as she watches her husband leave. “We're getting too old for this nonsense.” Ben snorts. 

His mother’s eyes turn serious and she takes his hands in her own small ones. “Son, I hope we’ll be able to get together again while you’re here. There is so much to catch up on. There is so much I don’t know about what’s going on with you.” He swallows back a wave of guilt, looking into her earnest eyes. He nods, “We’ll be touch.” Leia bites her lip, nods, and releases his hands. 

They walk together to the door. “I’d like you to use one of the cars while you’re here.”

“Oh, Mom, I don’t need t-.”

“I insist.” She hushes him with a raised palm. “Go on over to the garage and pick one out. I trust your driving. Your father taught you, and there’s no one better.” 

“Thanks.” Ben bends down to hug her and presses a soft kiss to her temple. 

 

The car collection has grown quite a bit since the last time he was here. Ben smiles as his eyes land on a sleek black Camaro in the corner. This is going to be fun. 

…

 

The sun has just barely set when Ben collapses on the hotel bed. He breaths deeply for the first time today. Eyes fall closed. He’s so tired already. He hadn’t anticipated a visit home could take so much out of him. All the muscles in his body relax. He hums in contentment, considering just going to sleep early. 

Beside his head, the iPad vibrates with a notification. He clicks open the screen to a new email. It’s from Charlie Trio. Ben rolls his eyes. He’ll read it later. When he clicks out of the email app, the last open page pops up. It is the article about War of the Stars that he’d been reading yesterday. Ben sighs and closes the tab. It’s a shame he’ll never be able to get his hands on that music! If Jabba can’t get it, who could? 

He transports himself back to that moment, sitting in the auditorium, being immersed in the greatest experience he’s ever had. The music, the story, and the characters had been so real to him. He’s never been a big theater lover, but maybe he should be. 

With a groan, he remembers the awkward way he’d forced a meeting with that woman, the star of the show. What was her name again, Rey? He should have just asked her for the music while he was there. 

Ben’s eyes fall open and he hurriedly pulls up a new google tab. He types the name of the show and then the name Rey. There it is, an article reviewing her play and performance. Rey Christensen. That’s her full name. What else had she said? She said she works at a dance studio on the west side of town. 

Be types in “Rey Christensen Boston dance studio” and searches. There it is. “Jakku Dance Studio offers private and group lessons with Rey Christensen, Poe Dameron…” An idea, a crazy idea, is forming in his head. This could work. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading. I'm having such a good time with this story and I hope you are too.  
> I'll be cranking out these first several chapters pretty quick so stay tuned for more.  
> Please leave likes and comments. I'd love to hear your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly, Ben realizes the receptionist is starring at him with eyebrows raised. He clears his throat and makes a big show of taking off his leather gloves. “Uh, yes. Sorry. I’m…” His eyes drift back to where Rey is talking animatedly.  
> The receptionist flows his gaze over her shoulder. “Oh”, she says, realization crossing her face. “You must be here for the walk-in beginner’s class.”  
> He stares down at her cheerful face for a long moment, unsure what to say. He is certainly not here for that. “Um…”  
> She mistakes his hesitation for nervousness. “Don’t worry. The class is for beginners only, so you’ll be on the same level as everyone else. And, they start a new subject every day, so there’s no pervious knowledge required.”  
> “Is that the class?” Ben ventures cautiously.  
> “Yes. it is. They meet every day at 8:30, and we have some of our best instructors teaching.”  
> Maybe. Just maybe, this could work. Is he crazy? Probably.

Ben checks his phone again to make sure this is the right address. “Stop here. That’s the place”, he tells his uber driver. He ducks out of the car and immediately turns to gaze across the building across the street. The sign above the door reads “Jakku Dance Studio”. This is the place. The front and side of the corner building are made of windows. Even though it’s only 8:15 in the morning, the place seems to be buzzing with customers. 

What is he doing here? This is insane! This is a really bad idea. What if she’s not even here yet? Ben groans internally and surveys the area, searching for a distraction. Directly behind him is a perfectly positioned coffee shop. Thank god! He’ll just step inside for a few minutes while he summons the courage to walk over. He couldn’t possibly face this situation without caffeine! 

The coffee shop is warm and steamy, but it feels wonderful on his chill-reddened cheeks and nose. He removes his sunglasses and hat, drinking in the smell of the warm brews. Usually, Ben likes his coffee straight black with a little cream, and never gives the holiday special drinks a glance. But for some reason, maybe it’s the heavily decorated shop and the Christmas tunes blaring over the loud speaker, he decides to order a gingerbread latte. 

Steaming cup in hand, Ben crosses the street, taking deep breaths to pump himself up. He reaches the door, stretches his hand out to turn the handle, and promptly turns tail and fast-walks back the way he came. Shit. Shit! Shit. Really? His he so much a coward that he can’t even make himself walk through a door-. 

BAM! Ben is suddenly shoved out of his own thoughts by jolt of running into something. It is a person. The woman gapes up at him, arms outstretched to display the huge coffee stain slowing spreading over her front. Both of their coffee cups lay on the ground, but he had somehow avoided the splatter. “Oh, Sorry.” He mutters, taking several steps back. 

“Are you freaking kidding me?!” Her voice is shrill and very angry. “What the hell, man?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.” They are standing in the middle of the intersection and cars are being forced into the other lane. An angry driver in a silver pickup, honks at them as he goes by. Ben does not want to deal with this today. He stoops down to gather the cups. 

“You’re sorry? That doesn’t help me any. Didn’t anyone ever teach you too look where you’re going?”

Fine. If she wants a fight, she’ll get it. “I said I was sorry!” He growls. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you manners?”

She glares at him. “Yeah. They also warned me about privileged assholes like you!”

Ok, he’s seriously mad now. “I’m the asshole? You’re the one who started this!”

“Shut the fuck up!” 

But, Ben has already turned his back and is marching back toward the coffee shop, his hands clenched in tight fists. He doesn’t have to listen to this. “Go to hell!” He turns to see her walking toward the other curb and throws the cups in her direction. 

“I’ll see you there.” She yells back.

He gives her the finger over his shoulder as she disappears into the building on the other side. What a bitch! 

Ben suddenly freezes. He stops in his tracks. Mouth falling open, he whips off his sunglasses and spins around to stare. His reflection stares back from the glass of the door the woman had had just disappeared behind; the door to the Jakku Dance Studio. Oh FUCK. As if this day wasn’t going to be stressful enough, he had to spill coffee on and scream at the very woman he’d come to meet. 

“Damn it!” He sighs, letting his head fall back and messaging both eyes with on hand. Ben wearily stares into traffic, not bothered by the starring passengers. Well, so much for his plan. He’ll just have to live without that music. Ben starts to turn away but stops himself. Wait no, he shakes his head clear, he shouldn’t be intimidated by this girl, Rey. Who is she after all? A nobody. If anything, she should be intimidated by him. His mother was one of the most powerful women in the state and he is one of the best violinists in the country. How many people would recognize her from her little play? Not many. Whereas, Ben was stopped several times a week by fans. 

Hell no, he isn’t scared of her. She is the one who started the fight, after all. He had said sorry, but she hadn’t even apologized. There is no reason this encounter has to be awkward for him. Ben squares his shoulders and lifts his chin. He’ll march straight over there and confront her in a calm, polite manner. He will explain the situation, request the music, and she will be so ashamed and flustered that she will hand it over without hesitation. Then he’ll leave with his head held high, knowing he’d won a moral victory. 

Anger simmering and pride inflating in his chest, Ben crosses the street as if he owns it. With a hand of steel, he flings open the studio door and swaggers inside. He stops up short when he finds himself in a small waiting area and a reception desk. The small, pretty Asian woman behind it smiles warmly at him. “Can I help you sir?” 

He hadn’t expected this. He had only imagined walking right up to Rey and demanding her attention, not having to go through a receptionist. “Um, yes.” Ben hesitantly walks up to the desk, gaze flickering around the room. There she is. He’s spotted her. Through the glass walls of this room and glass walls of a room across from him, he can see Rey. She is standing at the front of a room filled with people. Maybe she’s teaching a class. 

Suddenly, Ben realizes the receptionist is starring at him with eyebrows raised. He clears his throat and makes a big show of taking off his leather gloves. “Uh, yes. Sorry. I’m…” His eyes drift back to where Rey is talking animatedly. 

The receptionist flows his gaze over her shoulder. “Oh”, she says, realization crossing her face. “You must be here for the walk-in beginner’s class.”

He stares down at her cheerful face for a long moment, unsure what to say. He is certainly not here for that. “Um…”

She mistakes his hesitation for nervousness. “Don’t worry. The class is for beginners only, so you’ll be on the same level as everyone else. And, they start a new subject every day, so there’s no pervious knowledge required.” 

“Is that the class?” Ben ventures cautiously. 

“Yes. it is. They meet every day at 8:30, and we have some of our best instructors teaching.”

Maybe. Just maybe, this could work. Is he crazy? Probably.

“Ok, yeah. I guess I can do that.”

“Great!” Her face lights up and the speaks animatedly. “You’ll just need to join with a general membership. I’ll give you a card and that’s all you’ll need to get in every morning.” Wow. This young woman is almost overly enthusiastic. He glances down at the name plate on the desk. Rose Tico. Rose is dangerously close to giving him an optimism induced headache. 

 

Rose had pointed him to the locker room and said he could change inside. After pacing in front of a wall of small lockers and breathing deeply, Ben threw his jack inside one, having nothing else to change into, and stalked to the class room. Now, as he flings open the door, Ben realizes how very out of place he is. Everyone here is wearing workout clothes and sneakers. They are athletic, glowingly tan, enthusiastic, and wear overly bright smiles on their faces. He is wearing black jeans, a grey sweater, and leather boots. His complexion is somewhere between paper white and off-white and he has not smiled once this morning. He really wishes he’d had a chance to finish that cup of coffee. 

Deciding it will be far less awkward if he just doesn’t look at her, Ben steps into line at the back of the class and trains his eyes on the instructor directly in front of him. There are three people teaching this class. A girl with orange hair is on the far left, Rey is in the middle, and an attractive Latino man in on the right. Ben decides he will keep his attention on him. 

Rey is talking, leading the group in warm up exercises. “Alright”, she says in a bright tone, “We’re going to do three more lunges and then work on our hips. So, put your hands on your hips, plant your feet wide apart, and then move your hips in a slow circle. Like this.” Ben watches the male instructor follow Rey’s instructions and tries to do the same. “We only have a few more minutes for warm up, before we get d-.” Rey falters mid-sentence, surprise lifting the pitch of the last words. The man frowns and casts her a sideways glance and Ben has to bite his lip to keep from grinning. She has finally spotted him. 

Struggling to regain her composure, Rey continues to speak. “Uh, we… will get down to business and learn our dance for the day. I hear Poe has a really fun one to teach us.” Ben can almost feel her eyes boring into his skull and he laughs internally. Maybe this is going to end up being more fun than he’d thought.

When the warm up exercises are done, Rey says, “Now I’ll hand things over to Poe for our lesson today.” She and the man (presumably Poe) change places, but Ben still keeps his gaze locked on Poe. There is no way he is going to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging her presence. 

Clapping his hands together emphatically, Poe announces, “So, today we’ll be learning the Line Dance!” The class rumbles with excitement. “I know right. I am about to show you how to impress everyone at the club.” The class laughs. “I hope you washed your hands before this, because you’re about to touch everybody.” 

This is the part where Ben should run. He should get out of this place and never come back! Is he really about to dance? Is he really about to touch hands with every stranger in this room? Is this worth it? Out of the corner of his eye, Ben finds Rey, and she’s glaring right at him. Yes, to all the above. It will be worth it to annoy the heck out of the woman who cursed him out in the street. 

“Now, were going to learn the steps before we try any real dancing. I will show you the steps a few times and you all will have some time to practice while Rey, BB, and I walk around to help anyone who needs it.” Poe clicks on some music and begins to dance. He is very good, from what little Ben can tell, and the sequence of steps doesn’t quite seem so complicated once Poe’s done them several times. Ben tentatively begins to try to replicate Poe’s lesson. 

It’s clunky, and his feet feel strange moving in ways they never have, but he might be actually getting it. He allows himself a small smile. He looks searches the crowd and finds Rey in the opposite corner, helping an older man. When she glances over at him, he drops his eyes quickly. 

He is half way through the sequence when someone steps into his space and a pair of sneakers appear in his field of vision. Startled, Ben straitens up so quickly his spine cracks and he stumbles back a few steps. He finds himself looking down into the face of an angry woman with messy brown hair. Rey’s eyes are narrowed into furious slits. Ben takes a deep breath and smothes his expression into blank unconcern. 

“What in all of bloody hell are you doing here?” Rey fights to keep her breath steady and soft. 

Ben cocks his head and studies her face. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” He doesn’t lower his voice. 

The young woman casts a nervous glance around them and leans in. It probably isn’t company policy to curse at the clients. “You know exactly what I mean. What are you doing here?” 

“I’m here to dance”, Ben deadpans, “This is a dance studio, isn’t it?” 

Rey’s face is growing red with rage, lips pressing into a white line. “Listen, you son of a bitch, I don’t know what you’re trying to-.” Poe’s voice cuts her off as he announces the dance is about start. Ben cocks an eyebrow as he looks down his nose at her, waiting for her reaction. Still glaring, Rey growls low in her throat. “This isn’t over”, she says and turns away to join the other instructors in the front of the room. He watches her go and notices the tenseness of her shoulders. He can’t help but feel smug at the sight. 

“Everyone get into two lines facing each other and make sure they’re even”, Poe instructs. Ben joins the line. “When I turn on the music, we will start with the steps I just taught you. We will repeat that twice and then you will join arms with the person to the left of the person directly in front of you. We will spread out across the room and you and your partner will do that five-step section. Then, you will link arms with another person, spin, and then find the next person. We will do that until the music slows down again. We will move back into the line at that time.” Poe grins at the confusion on his pupils faces. “I know it sounds like a lot, but it will all make sense after a few tries.” 

After three false starts, Ben finds himself dancing with a stranger who is much better at this than he is, a young girl of about 18 or 19, with curly black hair. She tries to help him along and graciously doesn’t yell at him when he steps on her toes- twice. Then he moves on to link arms with a man around his age, but with considerably more weight around his middle. He links arms and spins with several more random partners, before his arm is caught in a crushing vice. Rey’s arm is much stronger than it looks. She leads the spin, slowing him down so she can reach up and whisper in his ear. “I told you this wasn’t over. You’re going to explain yourself!”

Ben holds his head high and alert. He can barely focus on not tripping over himself while she is pinching his arm in an iron grip. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific, miss.” 

“Oh my god. Who do you think you are!”

Ben finally meets her eyes, “You don’t recognize me?” 

Rey’s slim eyebrows jump. “Oh, I think I would recognize the guy who just spilled coffee on me and told me to go to hell. 

“No. Don’t you recognize me?” Her eyes are hazel. Interesting. 

Her brows scrunch in confusion. “What?” She says, starring at him, “I just told you I-.”

Amidst the dancing and confusion, the pair slow to a near stop. They move in a slow circle, eyes locked. It’s almost time to switch partners. Ben lifts his eyebrows and waits for her to remember. Rey searches his face, her own face still screwed up in confusion. Finally, realization flashes in her eyes and across her features. “You’re- you’re that guy who snuck into my show- with the violin.” Ben smiles and finally lets his amusement show. She opens her mouth to say more, but she is swept away by the switching of partners. 

Ben fights with a tiny, satisfied smile all throughout the rest of the dance and the next round. They third time they try, everyone has pretty much mastered the dance. Ben is surprised he’d picked it up so quickly, never have danced before. Though, he’s always had excellent rhythm, so maybe he shouldn’t be.

The class ends with everyone putting their hands together in a circle, yelling “team Poe”, and throwing their hands in the air. Ben locks eyes with Rey across the sea of hands and arms. Their pinkies are barely touching inside the layered mass. Hers is cold and her nail is flecked with chipped red polish. 

As soon as the circle breaks, Ben makes a b-line for the watercooler in the corner. He feels satisfyingly tired but extremely thirsty. He’s been sweating profusely under this sweater and when he wipes his forehead with the sleeve, it comes away damp. 

He downs several small capfuls of cold water and turns to find Rey waiting. Her arms are crossed over the material of her fitted, pink workout shirt. “Hello”, he says as Rey moves to the side to allow a group of students to get by. 

“Hi.” Rey bites her lip. “Dare I ask it again?” Ben lifts an eyebrow and she continues, “Dare I ask what you are doing here? Did you follow me? Are you stalking me?”

Hmm, now that he thinks about it, this doesn’t exactly look too good. “Uh, no. I mean, you did tell me where you work.”

“So, you are stalking me.” Rey’s face is stony. 

“No. I just came here to have a word with you. I promise this is the only other time I’ve seen you.”

“Well, that’s comforting”, she huffs sarcastically. “What do you want? Hurry up. I have another class after this.”

“I’ve been trying to get my hands on the accompaniment music from you play the other night. I’ve looked all over, but there doesn’t seem to be any available. I, I was hoping you would be able to get a copy of the sheet music. I’ll pay for it, of course, and for your efforts.” He is already reaching for his wallet.

“You can’t buy it anywhere because it’s not for sale. The creators specifically made it that way because they want to keep it out of the hands of random people who won’t do it right. Our director had to go to the creators, themselves to ask for a copy. They got to know him and then requested to talk to me and my co-stars and the conductor. Only after they believed us to be trustworthy, did they let us buy the play. I’m sorry, but I can’t give you anything.”

So, this is going to harder than he’d thought. “I understand that, I really do. I myself am a musician.” He softens his face leans in. “But this is really important to me. The music is just so perfect and right. I can’t get it out of my head. I won’t use to do anything wrong.”

Rey frowns. “What do you want to use it for?”

Ben is taken aback. “I… want to play it. On my violin.” 

“By yourself?” 

“Yes. I want to learn the pieces to play just for me, nothing else.” He says eagerly.

Her face is still unconvinced. “Seriously? You think that’s gonna work on me?” 

“What?” She doesn’t believe him. 

“You don’t want it to do your own show or to preform it, you just want to play it alone for yourself? That is the most unbelievable excuse I’ve ever heard. I’ve heard about people like you. You target people who have access to special music or instruments and wait until they’re venerable before making them give you what you want. Then you sell them illegally and make fake copies.”  
This girl has been watching too much crime thriller TV. “What? No. Are you kidding me?” He pokes himself in the chest. “Do I look like an undercover criminal boss to you?”

Rey pointedly looks him up and down. “Yes. Actually, you do.” That’s fair. 

Suddenly Poe, the man who had been teaching the dancing earlier, appears at Rey’s elbow. “Hey, sorry to interrupt.” He nods at Ben, who smiles back. “Rey, I’m headed over to teach tap class. Don’t you have a class too?” 

“Yes”, Rey glances up at the clock, “In few minutes. I’d better get going.”

“Ok, well, maybe I’ll see you at lunch time.” Poe disappears out the door. 

Ben takes a deep breath, preparing to dive back in. “Alright, I know this-.” 

She cuts him off. “Listen man, I don’t know you. I don’t what your intentions are. But I do know that I have to honor the wishes of the people who created this play; as a musician, you should understand that. I can’t give you any of it. So please, go and leave me alone. Don’t ask me again, because my answer will be the same.” 

Disappointment wells in his chest. She doesn’t understand. He needs to make her understand. “Wait, please.” But Rey is already half way to the door. 

“I have to go.” And then she’s gone. 

…

 

Ben spends a good hour aimlessly driving around the city, feeling mad and distracted. He eats lunch at one of his favorite restaurants but can barely focus on the food. On the drive back to his hotel, he scans through the radio stations, but it all just sounds like noise. Back in his hotel room, he picks through the stack of music he’d been planning to work on but ends up shoving them away, scattering them across the carpet. Brahms, Vivaldi, and Beethoven flutter to the ground like cream colored snow. 

What is wrong with him? The only thing he can think about it that show, that music, and the girl he’d spent the entire morning fighting with. All he wants is to grasp just a piece of that euphoric state peace and anticipation he’d felt that night. If only he had the music, he would have something. But he has nothing. He’s so empty. 

Unable to sit still any longer, Ben finds himself wandering the streets of downtown. The sun goes down. In the middle of the town square stands a huge pine tree, covered in lights and bulbs. The snow begins to fall as he sits down on one of the benches circling the snowy lawn. Is this his life now? Will he spend every day for the next month, wandering around, trying not to lose himself in his own mind? How did he get here? He remembers well the day he’d packed up to move to LA. He was so excited. He had believed he would take Hollywood by storm. He’d had a girlfriend soon after that, a real girlfriend. Alex. Maybe he had loved her. Ben wouldn’t know love if it kicked him in the jaw. He’d screwed that relationship up beautifully. 

Ben stops by a bar on his way back, for a few drinks. He briefly considers trying to hook up with someone but decides against it. 

In the shower later, Ben takes his dick in hand and begins to stroke himself. Some of the frustration ebbs as he tips his head back to enjoy the feeling of the hot water on his chest and feeling of slowly getting hard. He pulls from his recent sexual experiences to get himself going. Faces flicker across his eyelids as he works up the pace. He is close to coming, he can feel his balls clenching, but none of these girls are working for him. What did the girl from the other night look like, he can’t recall. Then, suddenly, a face, or maybe just a pair of eyes, comes to him and he focuses in on them. They are green and brown and blown wide with arousal. A smile presses crinkles into the corners of her eyes. Ben comes with a jolt. His body folds forward and he has to press his palm to the wall to stay upright. 

He’s breathing deeply, coming down from his high, when he realizes who those eyes belong to. Guilt and disgust coil in his stomach. What the hell is wrong with him? He has no business jerking off to a woman he barely knows. 

Disgusted, he falls into bed, wondering what Rey is doing right now, and what she would think if she knew he was thinking about her. 

…

 

Ben scoops up his dirty pants from the ground and slides them back on; they can’t be that bad. A small piece of paper falls out of the pocket as he’s hiking them up. Ben bends over to scoop it up and reads the finely printed letters, “General Membership, Jakku Dance Studio.”

…

 

Rey’s mouth falls open, her jaw actually drops away from her face, when she sees him. He’s wearing workout pants, a blue tank top, and black trainers. He actually has the nerve to smile at her. 

Ben takes his place at the back of the class and fixes his eyes on Rey, waiting for her to continue the instructions. She blinks away her shock and gives her head a tiny shake to clear it. “Everything alright, Rey.” Poe asks from his place on her left. 

Rey shoots Ben another look and then nods. “Yes. Fine. Let’s continue.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I think we've got most of the set up done and we can jump right into the fun stuff. Stay tuned for Reylo cuteness to begin. Sorry if these last chapters were downers. I really just wanted to get into Ben's headspace and make his situation clear. He's not doing so well, guys. I know he's an asshole now, but he won't be forever. I wanted his arc to be similar to the movies. Keep in mind, I'm new to this and don't really know what I'm doing.  
> Thanks so much for reading. Please leave likes and comments because I'd love to hear your thoughts.  
> I'll be updating again in the next couple days.

**Author's Note:**

> I am particularly nervous posting this because it is my first modern setting fic, and honestly, I have no idea what I'm doing. I never planned on writing fan fiction, but Reylo and the two years wait for Episode IX does something to me. I am starving for content.   
> I'm posting the first three chapters now, but I plan to continue to update once a week or more. 
> 
> Please follow, like, and comment because I would love to hear your feedback. I am really excited about this one. Lets see if I can stick with it.


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